They all count, some just count a little bit more. Trout that you really have to work for, the one's that truly define the saying "it only takes one", a term used widely here in Henry's Fork country by accomplished anglers and weathered guides alike. A reputation as having the toughest trout on the planet isn't easily earned, but this river certainly holds the title, housing the most hard-nosed trout known to man. That's why we work endlessly on these fish, because the reward is so great when you finally put "one" in the net.
You never take "one" for granted, that super picky trickster, the one laid up way back under that shade tree, nearly impossible to see, let alone reach with a fly. You send cast after cast into its lair, covering the feeding lane with countless perfect presentations as the trout continues to eat everything, within inches of you imitation, seemingly taunting you with an almost acute sense of your ulterior motive. You persevere, re-positioning multiple times and pulling out all the tricks. Dead drifting the fly by both sides of his mouth - in case he's missing an eye -getting way above and wiggling out an appalling amount of line with a flawless down-stream presentation, changing flies and casting more times than you'd like to admit. Hoping and praying the beast greets your fly with an open mouth, or better yet, a violent toilet bowl flush explosion of an eat. But no, the fish ain't givin' in, it has a serious attitude problem. So you finally reel up, tuck you tail between your legs, pull the anchor and float on down in hopes of sniffing out another.
You waste a good amount of time that night pondering strategy on how to feed this onerous fish before your return the next day. You anchor up high, a safe distance from his lair and you're quick to notice a familiar disruption in the water. A closer look, and contrasting light, reveal the healthy size of the trout, a true brut. Chatter in the boat is minimal, the only noticeable sound is the subdued clicks of a reel releasing enough line for a cast. A bomber double haul drops the fly a comfortable, but dangerous distance above the fish. It's eerily quiet, you could hear a pin drop. The fly drifts flawlessly, covering the target area and continuing on toward the back of the lie. Just as you hear "nope, he ain't having it".......again, you detect a small disruption and the fly disappears. Your smile widens as "one" leaves the water to show you its utter brilliance.
After the release, you laugh and mutter under your breath "it only takes one".
Brought to you by: C.F. Burheimer fly rods and TroutHunter leaders and tippet.